


Expected Additions (and Yet Unexpected Too)

by BlazeOnMars



Series: A Nexus of Love and History [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha!Ezio, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Giving Birth, M/M, Omega!Desmond, Praise Kink, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-07 21:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21224441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazeOnMars/pseuds/BlazeOnMars
Summary: Desmond and Ezio are expecting the birth of their first child. Things progress as they should. Mostly.





	Expected Additions (and Yet Unexpected Too)

**Author's Note:**

> There is one sex scene in this, as well as the graphic birth of twins (no complications).
> 
> I have literally never wanted to write kidfic before and then this happened...
> 
> Although I'm AFAB, I've never been pregnant, so all of this is coming from resources online. And though I know it should probably be a woman as the midwife, I wanted a character who will already be in the bigger fic (I borrowed Gaspar from Assassin's Creed Rebellion and tweaked him to my tastes so). We're just going to pretend that some modern pregnancy shit is available since two-thirds of the population can get pregnant in this 'verse, so medicine for pregnancy and delivery is more advanced, 'kay? Thanks.
> 
> This blibbet takes place after the events of the larger fic--still being written--but the damn kiddos wanted to be born and I let inspiration have me. The relevant parts of ABO information work like this: alphas and omegas have the ability to bond by the placing of a matemark, a bite, that allows them to generally feel where and how their mate is doing. Betas are a thing, since Gaspar is one, but are, rather obviously, not the focus of this fic. I actually go into a lot of detail about how ABO came to be and why it could work within the Assassin's Creed universe but that's also in the larger fic. If anyone wants to know, you can always hit me up on Tumblr (BlazeOnMars there too) and I can ramble for you.
> 
> At one point, Gaspar uses the term 'messerla' when addressing Desmond, which I created off the limited Italian I know as a combination of the base 'messere' for the male but adding 'la' for the feminine. Basically, it's supposed to be the formal term for a male omega. The converse, a female alpha, would be referred to as a 'madonno'.
> 
> Lastly, if you see any errors (grammar, spelling, word placement, that sort of thing), I would love if you let me know, since this is unbeta'd. If you want to leave me constructive criticism, I take it in the sandwich feedback method, please and thank you.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

At close to full term, rising from their bed every two hours to use the chamber pot is no easy feat for Desmond. He braces one hand under his bulging stomach as he stands, groaning quietly as his swollen feet take the weight of his body. He hears Ezio start to yawn and then the noise cuts off, like his mate smothered the sound in his pillow. "Again, my love?" he murmurs.

"Your kid keeps playing on my bladder," Desmond gripes. He feels tired beyond belief with it being well before dawn, and achy and sore and absolutely swollen. On one hand, he's actively enjoyed being pregnant for the most part; on the other, now that everything is catching up to him, he's very ready to be done, even if he is afraid of what giving birth will be like. He hurries to pee, and then hurries just as quickly back to bed, all but collapsing onto his side.

"My poor dearest," soothes his alpha, voice scratchy, and Ezio curls over Desmond's shoulder to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, holding himself up so he doesn't add to Desmond's discomfort. "Can I help somehow? A massage, the bag of heating beans, perhaps?"

Desmond almost moans at the thought of Ezio working his powerful hands into the knots forming in his lower back, and then does moan as Ezio reads him perfectly, setting his fingertips to the tense, overworked muscles supporting their child in Desmond's gravid body and beginning to work them gently. "Oh! Oh fuck," Desmond whines, and the baby must be able to tell its papa is nearby because he feels it roll over inside him and he braces himself for what's inevitably coming.

"Oh, _fuck_," he hisses. Ezio winces behind him, knowing that such an exclamation can only mean Desmond just got kicked in the ribs, and reaches over with one hand to sweep his palm over Desmond's stomach, pressing against the tiny body inside his mate until it settles.

"How much longer did Gaspar say it might be before you give birth?" Ezio asks.

Desmond rolls his eyes because Ezio is the most involved alpha Monteriggioni has ever seen and knows perfectly well that they're thirty-eight weeks past his last heat and he could go into labor at any time. Instead, he tries to find a comfortable position—not easy, when his belly feels like it's fully half of him—and sighs into the blankets as Ezio presses in tight behind him, his hands on Desmond keeping the baby from starting any of its usual acrobatics. How one kid can hit his bladder and his diaphragm at the same time, Desmond will probably never know. He drifts off again, Ezio pressing kisses to his shoulder.

The next time he wakes luckily isn't to have to use the chamber pot—_again_—but to Ezio separating gently from him and rising, the first birds of dawn making themselves heard. "Sleep, my love," says Ezio, and they share a lazy kiss after Ezio had quietly dressed. "I'll send a maid with a breakfast tray in a few hours."

"Okay," Desmond agrees, barely awake, "love you."

"And I you." Ezio's voice is so filled with affection, it nearly distracts Desmond from the discomfort growing in his lower back. "Sleep well."

It feels like no time at all before Desmond has to climb to his feet, yet again, though morning is well on its way across the horizon when he does. He's just finishing his business when there's a knock at the door. "Come in!" Desmond calls, straightening the massive, loose shirt and harem pants, all he can wear when the only other options would be robes or a dress.

"Good morning, Desmond!" Maria says cheerily, the maid carrying the promised breakfast tray coming in close behind, depositing the tray on the table, and then grabbing the chamber pot and leaving with a quick curtsey. The older omega starts splitting the plates on the tray, and Desmond comes to help her before she waves him away with a laugh. "I can get this for you. How do you feel?"

Desmond lowers himself slowly into a chair, pressing a hand to his lower back, and whines, "Awful." He glances over the spread, and takes only a piece of warm, crusty bread when the sight of the poached eggs in a butter sauce on another plate threatens to make his stomach rebel. "The baby seems as excited to meet Ezio as he is to meet the baby, because I got kicked no less than five times last night. I'm almost ready to induce myself, just to be done!"

Given that she'd gone through four of her own pregnancies, Desmond doesn't feel slighted when Maria laughs again, taking an egg from the plate Desmond can't look at, as well as ham from another dish. "Petruccio was much the same, though it wasn't Giovanni or I he responded to but Federico and Ezio. He aimed for my pelvis and I felt certain I was going to break in two by the time he was born," Maria recollects fondly, though her voice is laced with the ever-present grief that she can never hide, talking about her lost mate and sons. "Ezio mentioned your back was hurting?"

"Yes," admits Desmond around a bite of bread, "and it still is, worse than it's felt the whole pregnancy." At the mention of it, his back seems to tighten, and Desmond can only try to breath through it, and he feels a pressure low in his gut as the baby moves.

"Desmond?"

"Fine," he gasps after a moment, and looks up from the table to see Maria giving him a worried look. "I'm fine, just… fuck, something."

Maria isn't convinced, but she returns to her meal, and the conversation makes its way to the improvements Ezio is working on around Monteriggioni, which he is out overseeing now, knowing the birth of his child will limit his effectiveness as condottiero. His mate's dedication to their town makes Desmond love him all the more and he revels in how lucky he feels as he starts double checking Monteriggioni's ledgers.

Despite his attempts at hiding the growing pain of his body, Maria seems to know and she's never far, bringing tea and water, and bread and cheeses, and anything else she can convince Desmond to sip or nibble at over the course of the day. Ezio, swapping projects from the improvements to the outer walls—the third such improvement since he had first come to Monteriggioni—to the new, larger church being constructed, joins the two omegas for lunch. He tells them of the gossip he overheard before he goes, kissing Desmond deeply but quickly, and giving him a lingering, worried look as he leaves as Desmond tries to stretch out the ache still in his back.

It's while Desmond is attempting to get up from bed, needing a short nap in the afternoon, that his body jolts. Halfway to standing, he can only curl over his massive stomach and groan through his teeth as everything clenches at once, and he can feel the spasm through his abdomen like he hadn't before. It doesn't take long for the contraction to subside but he already knows: he's in labor. He'd probably been in labor since the night before.

He tries to calm the racing of his heart, and staggers to the door of the room, where Maria, coming from the staircase, is bringing another tray of snacks to him. She takes one look at him and the tray rattles in her hands but doesn't fall, and she hurries quickly to set it aside. "You're going into labor," she says, so confident Desmond is certain she knew this morning while they shared breakfast.

"Yeah, I think I am. I think I felt a full contraction," says Desmond, breathless with fear, and excitement, and worry, and anxiety, his emotions spinning inside him too quickly to be pinned down and assessed. "Maria," he starts, and then has to swallow down his nausea, leaning heavily on the doorframe. "I'm scared. What if—what if something goes wrong?"

Maria scoffs, in her gentle way, and hugs him tight. "Nothing will go wrong. You will have Gaspar to help you, and he is an excellent doctor, as you well know. You will have my help, and I've gone through this a few times. And when Ezio finds out, you won't be able to drag him from your side." She pulls back, keeping her hands on Desmond's arms, and looks at him seriously. "Let me get this tray in there, and then I'll send a servant to go fetch him."

Desmond nods and tries not to cry, knowing that it was the mention of Ezio that had steadied him. God, he needed that man, he thought to himself, and if it was tinged with desperation as another contraction hit him, nobody was in his head to know.

* * *

If Desmond had known Maria had told Beduino—one of the boys learning the upkeep of the villa under the architect Ezio had paid to see the house renovated—to spread the news that the condottiero's mate was going to give birth soon, he would have combusted in embarrassment. As it is, the boy sprints through the town, shouting, "The baby's coming! The baby's coming!"

And Desmond, pacing restlessly from the bed to the window and back again, is thankfully none the wiser.

The news spreads quicker than wildfire, until nearly every person who could be spared is gathered in the old church, the one built at Monteriggioni's founding, and they pray. It wasn't like they really needed to: neither Desmond, nor Ezio, were particularly religious, but they encouraged the populace of Monteriggioni to follow whatever religion they wanted to, and so the people pray.

* * *

Ezio, surveying where the new church would go in with the newly appointed priest and the architect sent by the Pope, hears the call of his name in panic and immediately thinks the worst.

"Ser Ezio!" One of the household staff—Beduino, Ezio thinks—is running flat out, so quickly there is nearly a dust cloud behind him on the unpaved stretch of street. "Ser Ezio!" he shouts again, sees Ezio down the path, and puts on a final burst of speed before skidding to a stop, panting hard.

"What is it?" Ezio asks, and his heart is lingering somewhere down by his stomach.

"Ser Ezio—it's your mate—" gasps Beduino.

Heart and stomach do a tight roll, and Ezio can barely get the words out. "What about Desmond? Is he alright?"

The boy nods his head, so quickly and so fiercely it almost looks like it will bobble right off his neck. "Madonna Maria sent me to tell you that the baby is coming!"

Everything goes crystal clear around him, the bright sun, the feel of the wind against his neck, the sounds of construction: Desmond is in labor. Their baby will be born soon! The smile that alights on his lips could split the ocean, and Ezio turns to the architect and the priest, "We will have to speak of this more later, I must go to my mate."

The architect, a father himself with three children grown, smiles with him and gives him a celebratory pat on the shoulder, wishing him and his family health and good fortune. The priest gives him a quick blessing and then sends him off.

He feels full of lightning, nearly buzzing, and Ezio calls on the energy he can feel inside him coming from the Apple Desmond had hidden in the Sanctuary; he can see the ghostly edge of gleaming silver around his hands, the same shade as surrounded him during the battle against Rodrigo and Juno. Ezio turns to Beduino, who is staring in awe, and tells the boy, "Thank you for the message. Have the rest of the day off, unless your master needs you."

The boy nods again, grinning widely, and then Ezio _moves_. Traversing Monteriggioni with the power of the Apple is unlike anything Ezio could explain, each step covering more ground than any man could manage on his own, and it feels like only a moment before he is at the doors to the Villa, compared to the walk out which had taken near half an hour. The power dissipates around him like vapor, and he goes quickly through the main floor and up the stairs to their bedroom.

He can hear Mother through the door, telling Desmond stories of the Auditore children when they were young: how Federico was an eel until four namedays and could slip through his clothes given half a moment to run naked through the palazzo, how Petruccio had been such a quiet baby. How Claudia refused to fall asleep unless tightly swaddled, and how Ezio would climb every surface if he found any sort of handhold and it was all Giovanni could do to teach him to climb safely, and Desmond laughs, feebly.

"That sounds—ow, _fuck ow_—that sounds like him," Desmond says, and Ezio thinks even a deaf man could hear how fond Desmond is of him, even though he is also in pain. Despite that, their bond is warm, thrumming away inside him, and Ezio spares a moment to stroke it, just to hear Desmond gasp, this time with awe, before he opens the door and steps inside.

Ezio finds Desmond in the room unerringly, and the joy that surges inside him as he sees his mate is beyond powerful, overwhelming and all-consuming. It feels like what Ezio imagines being in the center of the sun might be like. Desmond's lean features, creased and tight, loosen as he sees Ezio, who crosses to him in a handful of strides, taking that most beloved face between his hands to kiss his mate slowly, deeply. He takes his time finding that spot on the underside of the omega's upper lip that makes Desmond whine, his arms twining over Ezio's shoulders.

"Ezio," whispers Desmond as they part. The sound of his name on Desmond's lips is an aphrodisiac, and Ezio takes another kiss from him, just because he can.

"I came as soon as I could," Ezio responds, setting his forehead to Desmond's so all he can see is the glimmer of gold flecks in Desmond's amber eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Very strange and like everything in my insides might be trying to come out at once," he says, almost laughing, as he tries to make light of the situation. Ezio reluctantly lets go of Desmond's cheek with one hand so he can feel over the roundness of Desmond's stomach, trying to see if he can feel the contractions that will now plague his mate until the birth. For the first time in nearly the whole pregnancy, he cannot easily feel their child, only the vague impression of the baby, and he looks up at Desmond in alarm.

Desmond snorts and unlatches one arm from Ezio to guide his hand low, to the underside of the swell. "There. The damn kid finally settled down so it can be born, and now it's quite firmly pressing on my bladder, even worse than before—I've literally had to pee every five minutes."

Ezio sweeps his hand over Desmond's gravid body again, and then steps back at last to scan the rest of the room, keeping Desmond close with an arm around the omega's shoulders.

Mother, rising from her seat at their worktable, is looking at them fondly. She smooths her skirts and says, "Stay here with him, son, while I go make sure there are linens and hot water for when Gaspar arrives, since you beat him here. See if you can make him more comfortable."

Desmond's place in their lives, Ezio thinks with wonder, is always noticeable but Ezio cannot help thinking perhaps it is most noticeable in the changes to Mother's temperament: when they had first arrived in Monteriggioni, she had been a silent, broken woman and to see her restored to something approaching her lively attitude from Florence is, and perhaps always will be, a miracle, in every sense of the word. The feelings building under his sternum demand Ezio kiss his mate, long and slow, pouring his adoration into it in sweeping passes of his tongue and gentle teases with his teeth, before he kisses a trail over Desmond's cheek and down his neck.

"What—oh, holy shit, do that again—" and Ezio takes pride in how Desmond loses his question when the alpha draws his mouth over his matemark and sucks hard at it. It is the only help Ezio can offer at the moment, and he dreads the uselessness that will come when Desmond is thoroughly taken by labor. He tries not to think too much about it, distracting himself from his worried thoughts—as much as he is distracting Desmond—by drowning himself in Desmond's skin.

With barely a nudge, Desmond can read Ezio's intentions and goes to the bed, sitting on the edge, stripping his shirt, and then propping himself up on his forearms. Ezio always feels breathless when he sees his mate like this, so willing, and goes to his knees and slides the omega's loose pants free of him. His erection is only half hard, pain keeping him from true pleasure, but Ezio has learned more about Desmond's body these last months than he ever knew about any but his own and he bypasses Desmond's cock for his entrance.

The normally tight rim is already well slick and a little loose, and Ezio slides two fingers in gently, feeling Desmond flutter around them as the muscles react. Above him, Desmond moans, "I'd actually be impressed if you could get me off right now; I kinda don't think you can..."

"Well, that certainly sounds like a challenge," Ezio says, kissing Desmond's hip to punctuate the statement, "but even if I cannot, I want to make you feel good. Let me try?"

Desmond relaxes as the contraction ends, laughing, and it is such a bright sound Ezio is certain there is nothing in the world that could rival it. "When you ask like that, I'm not exactly going to say no," responds the omega, letting his body go as limp as possible on the bedding barring his braced arms. "Go ahead and give it your best shot."

And Ezio puts himself and his collected knowledge of Desmond's likes—firm pressure against his rim on the inward press, a gentle glide of fingertips over that sensitive place in his insides coming out—to work. He spends what feels like an eternity there between Desmond's parted legs, kissing everywhere he can reach, massaging Desmond's now hard length, and then when Desmond is moaning and writhing with pleasure but still not quite at his peak, Ezio brings out his ace.

"Oh dearest, the way you look, the way you _feel_," the alpha murmurs, twisting his fingers inside Desmond's entrance with his words. "Absolute perfection. It is as though the very gods made you for me, made you to enjoy every touch I can offer. You are a gift, my dear, and I adore you, you must know how much." His omega chokes out a cry and Ezio smirks and picks up his fervency, letting his voice go rough and hot, pressing more firmly against the sweet spot inside his mate.

"Were it not for our babe, anxious to be born, I would guide you up onto the bed and take you, perfect as you are." Ezio stops speaking only to kiss and lick the head of Desmond's cock, taking his time to enjoy the bitter seed beading there—Desmond is close, and Ezio pulls away to whisper his devotion to the swell of his lover's stomach. "Everything about you, my love, is perfect and I am always in awe that you choose to spend your life with me, always ever so grateful. Would that I could let you linger in our bed without a care in the world, ready and wanting and—"

Desmond throws his head back as he comes, a rippling wave from head to toe, whining high in his throat. Ezio eases him through the orgasm, one hand milking his cock dry, the other flexing and rolling with his body until the man collapses limp on the bed, gleaming with a glow of sweat. "Holy fuck," Desmond whimpers, panting, and shudders again when Ezio eases his fingers from the omega's gripping channel.

Ezio is aching in his hose and he opens the lacing enough to wrap his hand, wet with Desmond's spend, around his cock and stroke himself off gracelessly, racing for completion with pleasure sparking in his spine. There is little that gets him off quicker than seeing how his praise takes Desmond over the edge and it is a bare handful of pulls at the head of his length before he spills himself, his seed mingling with Desmond's, his low moan muffled against his omega's hip and long, slim fingers carding through his hair.

They share many more kisses as they get cleaned up, and Ezio lingers as he uses the lukewarm wash water—which Desmond explains had been brought up after lunch—to stroke every inch of Desmond's skin until he is clean. It is an inordinate pleasure for Ezio to help Desmond back into his loose pants, though the omega folds his shirt instead of wear it. After, Ezio gives himself a quick wash before he does up his hose and Desmond helps him straighten his doublet. And before Ezio goes to open the door, before he allows the rest of the world back in, he takes Desmond into his arms again, holding him as close as he can and breathing in his bright, sharp scent.

Desmond wraps his arms around Ezio's trim waist with a sigh, and though he tenses with pain as another contraction comes, he only breathes through it, taking comfort from Ezio's tight embrace for a long, long time. At last, though, he presses his lips to Ezio's temple gently, and drops a hand to his stomach with a hiss then a muttered curse, and Ezio kisses his cheek and swiftly goes to the door.

The alpha finds both Gaspar and Mother in the alcove by the stairs, talking quietly, surrounded by linens and the bag with the doctor's herbs and remedies. Both are holding their hands in a way that tells Ezio they have listened to Desmond's endless reminders to wash their hands in hot water with strong soap, and it makes Ezio smile to himself.

Gaspar, as a trained Assassin, sees him first and rises to his feet, bowing as he does. "Master Ezio," he says, and his smoke-shattered voice barely crosses the handful of feet separating them.

"Doctor," Ezio replies, "it is good to see you when I need not be your patient."

Mother grimaces as she stands too. "From the sounds of that, son, you've been Doctor Gaspar's patient far too often."

Ezio and Gaspar share a look of doctor-patient solidarity before the doctor gathers his bag and some of the linens, passing the rest to Ezio. Then, he orders in that way doctors do, commanding but not unkind, "I would like to get in and get started checking on Desmond, if you would."

"Yes, of course," says Ezio, leading the way back into the bedroom. When he opens the door, Desmond is pacing, back and forth, across the widest part of the room, rubbing his back and swearing up a storm. Without a thought, Ezio deposits his bundle on the table, distantly hears Gaspar and Mother enter the room behind him, the door shutting, but his focus is on his mate. "Dearest?"

"Fine," he huffs, but the sound is wrong somehow, and he pauses his movement only long enough to drag his fingers across Ezio's cheek briefly. Ezio closes his eyes to savor the scent and the reassurance and listens as Desmond greets the doctor with a voice shaky with nerves but trying for light-hearted. "Hi Gaspar, great day for a birthing, right?"

"Not a bad one, Messerla Desmond," says Gaspar, mellow in his smoky tone. Ezio hears the snap of a buckle, and the faint susurrus of cloth bags being moved around. "How long do you think you've been in labor?"

"I'm not really su—Last night, I think. I don't—" Desmond pauses, right next to Ezio, and Ezio can hear his heavy swallow before Ezio opens his eyes. His mate looks faint and pale with worry and it is time for Ezio to be the rock upon which Desmond has built his foundation: it is a duty Ezio actively looks forward to.

Ezio reaches out and catches one of Desmond's trembling hands in his own, bringing it to his lips so he can press kisses to Desmond's knuckles and up his wrist to the veins that show under his skin. "All is well, my love," he murmurs, soft and gentle, drawing Desmond to stand directly in front of him, and he meets Desmond's amber eyes firmly. "We are here for you. You think last night, then?"

Desmond nods, shakily, and says, "Yeah, that millionth time I had to get up and pee."

"For sure by midmorning, when breakfast was brought up," Mother adds, rerolling linens at the table, and Ezio spares her a thankful but brief glance. "He couldn't stand to even look at the poached eggs, which had been a staple of his diet only days ago."

Gaspar hums, doing calculations in his head, and then asks, "How long between contractions?"

"Well, they had been—sorta far apart? Somewhere between ten minutes and twenty-five minutes, until—" Desmond flushes bright red, and says so quickly he trips over the words "—until Ezio—anyway—now they're coming much quicker."

He should, perhaps, feel bad that his mate is embarrassed to admit they made love but Ezio is too proud he made Desmond come to feel anything else. The grin he gives Desmond is met with a fond roll of amber eyes, and Ezio feels faintly victorious that he is managing to distract Desmond even now.

"Until Ezio, what, brought you to climax?" Gaspar prompts, unruffled as only a doctor can be searching for all the right information, and Desmond somehow goes even redder as he nods. "How much quicker, would you say?"

Desmond shuts his eyes and breathes deeply, ignoring Gaspar's question as he breathes through another contraction. "Definitely—definitely inside five minutes," he gasps. Ezio works his hands gently over Desmond's lower back, pressing on the muscles along his spine until they unclench.

The doctor nods, moving a few last cloth pouches and then turns his full attention on Desmond. "Then I'll need to check how much you've dilated," says Gaspar. "I can ask Madonna Maria and Ser Ezio to leave for now, if that would make you more comfortable?"

"Oh, God, this is all going to be so embarrassing, isn't it?" Desmond whines to himself, covering his face with his hands.

Ezio presses a kiss to Desmond's shoulder and reminds him, "We are here only to make things easier, my dearest. If you want us to go, we shall." He glances at Mother, who gives her silent affirmation.

It takes a long time for Desmond to decide. He paces again, with his shoulders hunched nearly to his ears and his hands constantly moving from his face, to the underside of his swollen belly, to grip the opposite elbow, pausing only when another contraction comes, until nearly half an hour later when he finally, quietly, announces, "No, they can stay. I'll be a mess soon enough anyway."

Ezio takes one of Desmond's hands when the omega paces past him again, bringing it to his mouth for another set of kisses across his palm and wrist. "I will help however you want me to," he assures his mate, deliberately plucking their bond again. "But tell me what you wish, and it will be done."

Desmond blushes charmingly, the anxiety tightening his expression finally loosening some, and he breathes, "Thank you, Ezio."

Ezio kisses the tips of the long, elegant fingers in his hold, and then reluctantly releases him so Gaspar can take over, the beta doctor leading Desmond to the bed so he can be made comfortable for the examination. The alpha goes to the table where Mother has settled herself, sitting in the chair next to her with a sigh, trying very hard not to let instinct rise up knowing there is another touching his mate.

"You know, your father—" Mother starts, leaning over to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind Ezio's ear with a fond touch "—was almost feral by the time Federico was born. Your older brother decided the middle of the night was a good time to make his appearance, and when the midwife came to help, Giovanni nearly threw her back out the door when she went to check how far along I was."

"Relax, Desmond, I'll be as quick as I can," Ezio hears Gaspar say over Mother's story, cannot _not_ hear when more than half his focus is on the bed behind him. He hums distractedly and Mother takes it for the encouragement it is.

"That birth, we found it easiest if Giovanni had access to my matemark, but we'll see how your Desmond responds to all this and go from there," finishes Mother.

Ezio is forced to grip the edge of the table between his hands, as an anchor to keep him in his seat, when he hears Desmond's inhaled gasp and then his high whimper, the slick sound that Ezio is so familiar with as Gaspar removes his fingers from Desmond's body.

"You're coming along well for a first time," Gaspar reports. "At this pace, we might expect the baby this evening or tonight." Ezio hears the beta doctor cross the room to the fireplace, hears the crackle of the fire as more wood is added.

Desmond's laugh is not really a happy one, and it breaks in the middle so he can breathe through a contraction; Ezio can feel the storm of Desmond's emotions through their bond, spinning, spinning. The need to do something—anything— to help becomes overwhelming and Ezio leaves the table with barely a glance to Mother, attention going to Desmond. The omega lies naked on his side, one knee drawn up as far as it will go, and Ezio gets a blanket, settling it gently over Desmond's bare body.

"You're going to be tired of looking after me by the time this kid is born," Desmond says, turning his face into the mattress, and his tone is wrong for something that should be bringing them joy. It reminds Ezio of how often Desmond downplayed his concerns while they were hunting Templars and something inside Ezio starts to ache.

He knows from Mother's explanations that Desmond's emotions are well outside his control but, even if it were an average day, reassuring his mate is not something Ezio would begrudge for any reason.

"Never, my dearest, my love," replies Ezio. The alpha sits down on the edge of the bed and leans over to kiss Desmond's shoulder, his neck, his cheek, until Desmond turns to face him and Ezio can kiss him on the lips and then whisper, "Even if you needed my help every minute of every day, from now until the end of _existence_, I would only be grateful that I get to share the time with you." It is a skill Ezio has not practiced much, but he tries to focus his adoration for his omega through their bond, trying to let Desmond feel the strength of Ezio's love for him.

Desmond sobs, just once, Ezio raising a hand to Desmond's face to wipe the tears away. "God, I love you," Desmond chokes out, and then hides his face against Ezio's chest. Ezio cradles him in his hold, massaging at his stomach when the contractions come, faster and for longer. Time slips by unnoticed as Desmond gives into the instinct of his body and Ezio concerns himself only with Desmond's comfort, helping the omega shift positions often though they never leave the bed.

Regularly, Gaspar comes over to them, moving the blanket aside enough to check how much further along Desmond's cervix has dilated, using that and his questions about the strength and frequency of the contractions to guess at how much longer until Desmond will be ready to birth the baby. To Ezio, his attention hyper focused on his mate, he feels it when there is a shift in Desmond's body and he cries out loudly for the first time as the contraction ripples through him, sharper than any had yet been. They had been lounging against the headboard of the bed, Ezio bracing Desmond against his chest, and Desmond jolts up as the contraction ends.

"Oh fu-_fucking Jesus Christ_," he groans, curling over his swollen stomach. "Gaspar, I think— I think it's time."

The doctor comes to the edge of the bed and gestures for Desmond to lie on his side. "Did you feel a need to push that time?" he asks in his smoke-tone. Ezio helps Desmond adjust and then draws the blanket out of the way so Gaspar can check Desmond's dilation.

"Yes," and Desmond grimaces when Gaspar's fingers slide into him yet again. "It was like someone wrapped a hand around my stomach and squeezed."

Gaspar nods and slips his fingers free. "Then let's get ready to meet the little one." He goes to the table and gathers nearly all the towels and sheets at once but sets them on the corner of the bed. "Now, Desmond, push with the contractions, focus on timing them together. We're going to have to follow your lead on what's the most comfortable for you."

Desmond moans through another contraction before he can respond, huffing, "I don't want to be lying down, whatever—oh, shit ow—whatever else we do, I don't want to lay down." With quivering limbs, Desmond pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, the impending birth of the baby ridding him of his usual modesty.

Ezio rises from his position sitting against the headboard and reaches out to Desmond with both hands, letting his mate lever himself up to his knees, his shaking hands balancing his gravid body against Ezio. Being face-to-face, with Ezio doing most of the work to keep them kneeling, leaves the rest of Desmond's body accessible to Gaspar, and the doctor wastes no time getting a towel under Desmond's spread knees, checking the omega's dilation again.

"It shouldn't be long now," Gaspar says confidently.

Another contraction follows the doctor's words almost immediately, and Desmond strangles his cry in Ezio's doublet, until, panting, he demands, "Ezio, get that off!"

Gaspar and Mother help Desmond stay upright while Ezio obeys his mate, unlacing his doublet and stripping his shirt until he is bare chested and Desmond can bury his nose unhindered against Ezio's neck, against the scent glands there. It seems to soothe him, and Ezio feels him shiver with the deep, full breaths he takes, waiting for the next contraction.

But now that the omega is up, his body seems to take that as permission to hurry things along, the contractions coming hard, fast and strong and overlapping, to the point where Ezio can only tell they have ended, for the moment, when Desmond stops screaming. He can only imagine the pain Desmond is feeling, but to hear him is agonizing to the alpha, and he asks Gaspar, voice rough and desperate, "Doctor, is there nothing more I can do to help him?"

"As long as you keep your instincts in check," the beta says, perfectly calm, watching closely as Desmond quakes through yet another contraction, "then the best help you can be is by staying exactly where you are." Desmond goes limp, shuddering and sweaty, in Ezio's hold as the contraction ends and Gaspar tries to get his attention. "Desmond, I think the baby might crown soon. When it does, I need you _not to push_. Can you do that?"

Gasping for breath, Desmond can barely nod. Ezio guides his mate's head back to his shoulder, taking as much of Desmond's weight as he can so all Desmond has to worry about is the process of giving birth. "Why must he not push?" Ezio asks. "I thought—"

Gaspar shakes his head at the alpha. "No, if he pushes while the baby crowns, he could tear himself open. It's a complication we don't need. As long as he doesn't push, he should be fine."

Ezio goes pale and clutches Desmond to him that much closer. In order to give Desmond something else to think about, and to distract himself, Ezio guides Desmond's hands to his biceps and it takes Desmond half a moment to understand what Ezio is doing, encouraging the use of the alpha's body as a tool to take some of the omega's pain. There will be swathes of bruises across him by the time the child is born, but Ezio would take them a million times over to help his mate.

It feels like an eternity later when Gaspar pronounces, "It's crowning! Desmond, I know you want to, but you _can't_ push."

Desmond's shriek of agony will join the other sounds of his nightmares, but it becomes clear that by some monumental effort, Desmond keeps from pushing. "You are a marvel, my love," Ezio encourages him, drying his omega's tears carefully with one hand, "you are doing so well. Just wait, wait until Gaspar—"

"That's it!" shouts Gaspar. "The baby's head is out! Desmond, _push_!"

There is a last surge of effort, and Desmond tries to muffle his scream in Ezio's neck, until Gaspar snatches something bloody and writhing from between Desmond's legs. "Maria!" he calls, and Mother comes smoothly from the table with the tie for the baby's umbilical cord, which they tie and cut quickly, Ezio watching, awestruck.

Between the two of them, they check the baby over and, even though the baby is quiet, Ezio can see it breathing. Gaspar turns back to Desmond and Ezio on the bed and announces, "It's a boy." Mother takes the infant to the tiny kitchen tub that had been brought up when Ezio was otherwise occupied and starts the slow, gentle process of washing off the child.

Ezio presses his lips to Desmond's hairline desperately. "A boy, Desmond!" he whispers. "We have a son!" Desmond's head lolls to the side and Ezio can see the faint smile gracing his mouth. "I am—I am in awe, my darling!"

Desmond shudders, and Ezio recalls that, now the child has been delivered, the afterbirth must still be passed. Gaspar checks the boy, still quiet, though much cleaner as Mother finishes washing him, and returns to Desmond. "I need to make sure you didn't tear, Desmond," says the doctor, calm again, and Desmond grimaces, body jolting, when Gaspar does just that.

"Oh. Oh, glory to God and Heaven," he whispers, sounding nearly faint.

"What—" Desmond gasps out, before he wails again, wordless in sudden distress.

Ezio draws Desmond closer to him, Desmond clinging back as hard as his quivering arms can, and feels instinct rising up, the urge to protect his weakened mate growing a red film in the corners of his eyes. "Gaspar?" he asks, the doctor's name nearly a snarl.

"You're having twins," says Gaspar, looking up at Ezio and then at Desmond. "Desmond, the second baby is nearly crowning; remember, don't push."

"Twins!" Ezio exclaims.

"I can see the baby's head. Wait, Desmond, it's almost free! Don't push!" commands the doctor.

There is a fresh wave of tears dripping against Ezio's collarbone, and Desmond sobs, "I can’t—I can't—" And his whole body quivers as he pushes.

"Ah! There!" Gaspar catches the second child as easily as the first, tying the umbilical cord himself with a tie that comes seemingly from nowhere, and he clips it quickly. The baby immediately begins to cry, and over the sound, Gaspar tells them, "This one is a girl!"

Ezio can barely breath as he smooths his hands up and down Desmond's spine soothingly, listening to the heartbreaking sounds of his mate whimpering with pain, one of the babies still screaming in the background. "You have done so well, dearest," Ezio murmurs, "my strong, amazing lover, treasure of my life, we have been blessed with _twins_."

"We—we're lucky—" gasps Desmond wetly against Ezio's neck "—lucky we have—enough names." The words sound like they cost him, and he shivers from head to toe with strain; Ezio presses his lips to Desmond's damp hairline again.

From across the room, a second cry joins the first, and Mother coos to the baby in her arms, "Did you hear your mama, little one?" Then she brings the freshly washed baby boy over to the bed.

Seeing him up close, seeing him squirm in his swaddling, seeing the tuft of dark hair on his head, Ezio is struck by the realization that this is _his child_. This is a tiny, perfect human being that he and Desmond created, this is their legacy, and Ezio knows, with the same sort of certainty that he knows he would die for Desmond, he would die for his children—would kill without pause, without regret. There is a space growing in their bond, a space that he knows instinctively will be filled by the sense of their children, and Ezio feels like his heart grows to accommodate the love for these new lives, even as his love for Desmond grows more intense.

Gaspar brings the freshly washed baby girl and hands her off to Mother, who rocks them and tries to appease them, while the doctor helps Desmond begin passing the afterbirth. He reaches down, hands carefully clean again, tugging gently on the two umbilical cords trailing from Desmond's body. The motion makes Desmond tense, and he bites at Ezio's shoulder as his body quivers through another contraction.

"You are so close, my love," encourages Ezio, bracing Desmond up. His attention holds on the infants in Mother's arms for a long moment, before he turns his face back down to his omega. "Just a little more. Just the placenta, and then you can rest." He feels the tip of Desmond's nose move against his neck in inarticulate agreement and kisses his mate's forehead again with a surge of adoration. "Only a little more."

It goes swiftly, once the doctor gets Ezio to massage Desmond's stomach, and between the external pressure and Gaspar's gentle tugging, the afterbirth slips from Desmond's body onto the towels that had been laid down with an ugly squelch. The shiver that had taken up place in Desmond's bones since the first baby crowned starts to ease, his breathing begins to level, and Ezio can feel Desmond's exhaustion but also his elation through their bond. Since the first true contraction, hours ago, Ezio does not fear losing this person he loves so dearly and he exhales a shaky sigh over the top of Desmond's head.

Gaspar checks Desmond thoroughly and declares, "I can't feel any tearing, or anything else wrong, so as long as the bleeding stops soon, I think you should be fine, Desmond. Let's get you comfortable, and then see if the babies will latch." The doctor gathers up the bloody towels with the placenta, and leaves, for only a moment to set the towels outside the door.

Ezio carefully helps Desmond up to the headboard and prepares the pillows so Desmond can recline against them and, finally, relax. They move slowly, pausing any time the omega winces or shows any discomfort, but by the time Desmond eases his way back against the pillows, he seems stronger. He raises one shaking hand to catch Ezio's cheek and the alpha closes his eyes to savor the touch, then kisses his mate's palm.

Voice rough from screaming but laced with fondness, Desmond asks, "Ezio, would you get me some water and a few towels, if there are any left?"

"Of course, dearest," he answers immediately, presses another kiss to Desmond's hand, and rises from the bed to do as asked, only to be met halfway by Gaspar, who passes him both a cup of water, and two towels. He helps Desmond hold the cup while he drinks in slow, steady sips until the cup is empty, then gets one towel beneath Desmond's hips, though there seems to be little blood, and lays the other over Desmond's lap. He hears the door open but pays the sound no attention.

Mother has both children quieted and she carefully hands Desmond one of the swaddled babies, as Ezio rejoins his mate on the bed, tucking the exhausted omega against his shoulder. "The boy," she says, and looks at Ezio with a proud gleam in her eye, "your firstborn."

Desmond is looking at the baby with an expression Ezio cannot hope to parse, only that it is a complex number of emotions across his mate's lovely features. He traces his fingers gently over the baby's face, feeling the downy hair atop his head, and the shape of his tiny cheek, grinning as the infant turns his head towards the touch, at last whispering, "Hi, baby. I've waited so long to meet you."

The baby blinks at the sound of his mother's voice, coming awake with a cry, and Desmond brings the child to his breast, where the boy latches to the offered nipple immediately and begins to suckle. Ezio reaches out to sweep a gentle hand over the baby's head and then hesitates; Desmond takes his wrist with his unoccupied hand and brings it the rest of the way to the baby's back. "Our son, Ezio," he says, and the tears in his voice are ones of happiness when he beams at the alpha. "Do you want to name him?"

They had not spoken much of baby names, not for the first child. They had not needed to. Desmond had known immediately what he wanted to name the baby once the topic had come up, weeks after dealing with Rodrigo and Juno, and Ezio was hardly going to deny him when the name Desmond had chosen was, well, rather perfect in Ezio's entirely biased opinion.

"Vittorio," murmurs Ezio, only loud enough to reach Desmond, and his mate laces his fingers with Ezio's on Vittorio's back as the baby continues to nurse. "Our victory, my love."

"What will you name him, son?" Mother asks, bouncing the baby girl gently to keep her entertained while she waits for her turn at Desmond's breast.

A solemnity falls over him as he announces, "Vittorio Auditore da Monteriggioni."

"Your father would be—" says Mother, and she draws a quivering breath "—he would be so proud of you. Of you both." Desmond hides his blush against Ezio's shoulder, and then has to shift Vittorio when he loses hold of Desmond's chest. "Desmond, do you think you're ready to try feeding her too?"

With a nod, Desmond reaches out and takes the other baby carefully, making cautious, deliberate movements until he has the baby girl situated, though it takes a few times before she latches onto his other nipple and also begins to nurse. Reclined as he is, and both babies suckling, the omega gently eases his hand away from Vittorio's back to stroke the baby girl over her own tuft of dark hair, nearly identical to her brother's. Ezio makes sure Vittorio stays in place by leaving his hand on the boy's back, feeling each suck and swallow.

"Twins," Desmond says, "I still can't believe I was carrying _twins_ that whole time."

The omega laughs a little but cuts himself off before he jostles the children and their feeding, and Ezio’s joy surges to hear him recovering. The alpha echoes his mate's statement when he was in labor and says, "Then it is good we have enough names, yes?"

"Yeah, it is, can you imagine having to come up with one _now_?" asks Desmond.

Privately, Ezio thinks that between the two of them, they could manage to pick something, and is still grateful they had talked about it regardless. Desmond had known what he wanted to name a first child, but the omega had also known that, unless there were complications with the pregnancy, he would want more. When Ezio asked what Desmond intended to name these imaginary extra babies, the omega had only laughed and said he had nothing particular in mind and that they could decide together on a few names before they needed them.

Their discussions led to many pleasurable nights between them, a recurring problem when Ezio could never get enough of his mate.

Ezio shakes his head and turns his attention back to the infants, suckling away, and moves his hand from Vittorio to the baby girl, gently stroking her forehead and through the strands of dark hair, following the path Desmond traced down her back. "Which of our choices would you like to give her, then?"

Desmond is silent for a long moment, looking at Ezio and then their children, before he looks up at Ezio again. The amber of his eyes is always striking and Ezio allows himself to cherish the color, the gold flecks, the _love_ that seems so very obvious, before the omega looks back down at the baby girl and announces, "I want to name her Ilenia."

"Ilenia," Ezio repeats, testing the name on his tongue and grinning when he finds how much he likes it. "Vittorio and Ilenia Auditore da Monteriggioni."

**Author's Note:**

> Some minor edits made on 11/8/19.


End file.
